Family

by Matthew Costello

  Kids with kids.

  Good to see that.

  And Kate? She seemed to have found a girl near her age.

  The two of them nearly women.

  But Christie had to remind herself, My daughter is still growing. She isn’t a woman.

  Not yet.

  She needs this as much as Simon.

  And maybe I do as well.

  “I need to talk to my kids. But I think they will want to stay. Ben good to stay as well?”

  She had nearly forgotten about him.

  “Sure. Sweet guy. Looks strong. We could use that.”

  Christie nodded.

  It seemed decided.

  Then, “And what about you, Sam. Or ‘Doc.’ Your story? I mean, you don’t have to, but—”

  And her question made the man look away. His beard glowed with a reddish tinge from the fire.

  And in what seemed his pattern, he took a few minutes before returning to Christie, to her question.

  And probably hoping to race through it, to summarize it just as she did.

  He began.

  His voice low.

  The tale, like for all of us, Christie thought, so hard to tell.

  CHAPTER 32

  Of Hope and Michigan

  “Doc? Well, we could actually use a real ‘doc’. Me. I’m just a research scientist.”

  “Just…”

  Sam smiled at that. “Molecular Biology. Worked for the government. Back… in the day. The Tharp Center, near Princeton.”

  Then it hit Christie.

  This man sitting here, by the fire, might actually be one of those people who knew what happened.

  Whatever it was that changed the world forever.

  “You were studying this? The drought, the crops dying, the Can Heads…”

  “Our team was. All of it. Thinking there had to be an explanation. And it had to be biological. Some genetic mutation. We had so many tests, studies going—you name it. And other places all around the country, same thing.”

  “And what did you find?”

  At that question Sam paused. He looked away, his eyes catching the flickering flames of the bonfire.

  “Not enough. And not fast enough. Lot of scientists were ready to jump on GMOs—”

  “GMOs?”

  “Genetically Modified Organisms. They altered foods that made tomatoes stay fresh and red, or could keep corn for weeks, or make apples resistant to insects.”

  “We were doing that?”

  “Here, in the US… yes. Most countries, to some extent. But no matter. Once a GMO organism was created, all you needed was a stiff breeze and it was on the move.”

  “So is that what happened?”

  “We weren’t sure. Not yet, anyway. I was working on the other issue mostly… the Can Heads. But we shared everything, and it seemed that some of those altered genes could mutate on their own… like throwing a switch and one mutated gene could trigger another. Like dominos.”

  “More like a science fiction movie…”

  Sam turned to her, and smiled.

  “Exactly what we thought. A very scary movie. Thinking we’re in control, and suddenly… we’re not.”

  “And the Can Heads?”

  Christie didn’t even like saying the words. As if that only made them more real.

  “We guessed they were linked… to the food crisis. And my team actually made a breakthrough, a bit of one.”

  “What was that?”

  “We found out why some people turned, and others didn’t. Again, it came down to genes. A level of genetic protection some people had… that others didn’t. Probably linked to the plant mutations that had fully invaded the food chain. But we were years…”

  He took a breath.

  “…maybe decades away from finding the link. From changing things.”

  Christie nodded.

  Then there was the obvious question.

  One that she thought that perhaps she should be more cautious about asking.

  “And how did you come here, Sam? Leading these people? Heading west.”

  And then… silence.

  Sam’s hand went to his beard. A scratch. Then, as if a speck of dust had drifted into an eye, he rubbed the socket with a knuckle.

  And Christie so wished she hadn’t asked that question.

  “Plans… plans were being made. Where we lived and worked were—like a lot of places—getting more dangerous, electric fences or no fences. One group thought that—with time—they could undo some of the genetic alterations affecting food. They believed they could reengineer them… if they had the time and the space.”

  He took a breath. “They were going to head west.”

  “To Michigan?”

  Sam nodded. “Reports came to us that Can Head activity in parts on the Michigan northeast coast, along Lake Huron, was less intense. Even heard that the drought hadn’t been so severe, and the soil could still be good—or as good as we could get. A water supply… better than most places. And they had located a spot, a good defensible location that someone knew well. A place called Bald Mountain. Beautiful valley that led to the lake.”

  “They left first?”

  “Right. The first caravan. Sending reports, while the rest of us rushed to get ready, last minute things, packing up, getting… getting as much food, gas…”

  He stopped.

  She knew what he was going to say.

  And there was nothing she could do about it.

  “Then one night…”

  How many of us, Christie thought, could tell such a story, beginning exactly the same way… “then one night…”

  “No advance warning. They came. Broke in somehow. Dozens of them. Like they had planned it, acting together.”

  And Jack had felt the same thing. That somehow the animal-like Can Heads could act together, like a pack.

  “All the gunfire, so much shooting, the bodies piling up—but with so many. My wife, baby. Down in the basement. Safe. While I tried to deal with it.”

  He turned and looked at her.

  Anyone who would be on this road would have a story.

  Of loss. Love. Death.

  “A back window. Boarded up. But a bunch had broken through. Couldn’t even hear it above all the gunfire on the street, in the house. And I couldn’t… couldn’t…”

  He stopped.

  And Christie leaned across.

  Touched his forearm.

  She didn’t say the obvious.

  The thing that held absolutely no meaning here.

  Those words absurd.

  It’s okay.

  Instead, she just patted his arm while finally Sam lowered his head, and soundlessly covered his eyes with both his hands, his sob silent.

  But with Christie’s arm there, she felt his shaking, heaving.

  And she just held that position—looking at him, looking at the fire—until it stopped.

  When it ended, Sam turned, once again a smile on his face, though his eyes still glistened.

  “Time you went in—the house, the barn. Your choice. Get some sleep?”

  Christie nodded. She could still see her kids, still talking.

  Like this was a campout. A big bonfire. All they needed were the marshmallows.

  She stood up. “And tomorrow we get to Michigan…”

  Sam stood as well. Nodded. “Hopefully. Sometimes reminds me of that song…”

  “Hmm?”

  “‘Michigan seems like a dream to me now…’”

  And Christie could easily finish the verse, the music suddenly there, in her brain.

  All gone to look for America…

  And she followed Sam as people took positions at the cars, guns ready, and others streamed into the farmhouse.

  Undisturbed sleep would be good.

  Even lying on the floor.

  No matter.

  Be good for her kids.

  That’s what she hoped was ahead.

  But she couldn’t have been more wrong.
>
  kate

  A mother's love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.

  - Agatha Christie

  CHAPTER 33

  The Innocent

  Some of the people had headed to the barn, dragging pillows, blankets, anything to keep warm and sleep on.

  Little kids dragged stuffed animals, the scene both beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.

  Christie had said to her kids to find a spot to sleep in the big farmhouse.

  After the previous night, they’d both be so tired that they could likely sleep anywhere.

  Christie’s leg had begun to ache.

  When a bathroom became empty—a room that had a long line from early on until well into the night—Christie went in, and with the antibiotic ointment and clean bandages in her hand, she unwrapped the wound to see the damage.

  And despite the wound looking like cracked pavement, even glistening in spots, she could see that the wound did look like it was healing.

  Some of the pain she was feeling was just that healing—skin scabbing, then being stretched.

  Tomorrow Kate would drive… and she’d just let the leg get better.

  Now, she rolled up the stained, dark maroon blood-stained bandage and then spread the antibiotic ointment over the wound. Then, she wrapped it tight with a new bandage and used a metal clip to hold it into place.

  Someone knocked at the door.

  She had been in here for a while.

  “Sorry,” she said.

  And then putting her jeans back on, she went to the door and opened it.

  An old man with narrow eyes waited at the door.

  No friendly smile here.

  No matter what was happening in the world, Christie thought, no one liked waiting for the bathroom.

  She gave the man a small smile and then hobbling past him. She went and looked for a place to lie down.

  Shut her eyes.

  Blessed sleep.

  People on guard outside.

  About as safe as they could be.

  *

  Her sleep had come fast, deep.

  Crazy dreams swirled around. Memories of times in their backyard on Staten Island.

  Then she… Jack… making love.

  That dream so painful.

  Feeling so real.

  Then she walked through a world where the Can Heads were everywhere… but yet it seemed normal.

  Can Heads pumping gas! Operating a checkout at the A&P.

  As if the war was over, and they had won.

  Terrifying—and yet funny at the same time.

  Then, in the midst of that dream, she heard voices. The deep rumble of male voices. Then a woman, shrill, rising above that sound.

  Not a dream.

  Somewhere downstairs.

  And Christie opened her eyes.

  *

  And when the loud voices continued, she struggled to stand up, then walk downstairs.

  Something was going on.

  And if there was one thing Christie knew, you just didn’t keep your eyes closed in this world.

  You just didn’t turn over, and ignore things.

  This wasn’t a world where you could afford to be unconcerned.

  And as she neared the bottom of the farmhouse’s staircase…

  She saw a bunch of men, rifles in hand. Sam there as well. And a few women, most older than Christie, but they too held guns.

  Other people who had been sleeping sprawled on the living room floor—a few kids, and older people—remained on the floor, sitting, listening.

  She didn’t see Kate or Simon.

  Good. Hopefully they could stay asleep.

  Sam had noticed her on the stairs.

  “What’s happening?” Christie said.

  Sam nodded, as if weighing how to respond.

  He took steps toward Christie.

  “One of the men scouting… running ahead of the road for tomorrow. Found something. Something we knew we might find.”

  Sam looked back at the circle of men and women, coats on. All ready to leave, go somewhere.

  “What did they find?”

  “These people. Heading west as well. But—”

  Now the man who had first stopped Christie just that day walked over. “We gotta go, Doc. Now’s the time.”

  Christie kept her eyes on Sam.

  Christie realized she asked the next question so quietly, “What kind of people?”

  “You know what you saw, what almost happened to your son?”

  She shook her head. “No…”

  “Keeping…” Sam struggled to say the words. “…children, kids in a pen, travelling with them…”

  He left the rest unfinished.

  There were kids in the room.

  Christie thought, unfinished is best.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Sam took a breath. A glance at the people behind him, guns ready. Faces grim.

  “We’re going to get them.”

  Yes, Christie realized, that’s what has to happen.

  Must happen.

  “I’ll help. I’ll go too.”

  Sam was quick to shake his head. “No. I mean, we can use all the help we can get. But with your leg—”

  “I can still shoot, even drive.”

  “You could be a liability to us.”

  And as soon as he said it, she knew he was right.

  A trip, a stumble, and she could turn into a prisoner, someone else they’d have to rescue… along with all those kids.

  She nodded in agreement.

  Which is when she heard a familiar voice, just behind her.

  The voice steady, strong, determined. “I’ll go.”

  Christie turned and looked at Kate, standing just feet from the stairs.

  Gun in hand.

  She was ready to say, What are you talking about?

  You’ll go to this… place? Where these men, these monsters are keeping kids?

  Kids…

  Prisoners. Travelling with them.

  For food.

  But Sam beat her to it.

  He walked over to Kate, looked down at her gun.

  “Kate, thanks for offering. But best you stay here.”

  And then Christie saw Kate took a step closer to the cluster of people, mostly men, but two women also standing with them.

  Kate looked at her, then around at the others.

  “I’ve shot people—like these people. I saved my brother. If I can help save others, then that’s what I should do.”

  Sam looked over at Christie as if asking for some help here.

  But then Christie realized: Her Kate from long ago, her little girl, was gone. Kate had saved Simon, then she saved her, dragging her out of that mountain house, carrying a weight that should have crushed her.

  Christie realized, that in this world, Kate should go.

  “We don’t know how many people are there, what kind of weapons, just that they’re there.”

  “More the reason I should go.”

  One thing about Kate: When she got an idea, she got an idea.

  “Besides, all those kids. They’ll be scared. Could even get hurt as you try to free them. I could help with that.”

  Ideas. And logic.

  And Christie turned to Sam.

  “Sam, I love my daughter; I don’t want her to go. But she’s right. I wouldn’t be here but for her. I can’t go…”

  A look back at Kate.

  “But she can.”

  Sam scratched his head. He obviously would like every gun he could. And he also needed to have people stay here so there was some defense of the wagon-train circle of cars.

  Then, he nodded.

  “Okay. But we all—”

  And then from somewhere in the kitchen, out lumbered the giant figure of Ben.

  “I’ll go too.”

  Sam did an eye roll. He probably thou
ght Ben was big, strong… but maybe… also a liability?

  “I can help you too,” Ben said.

  It looked like Sam was about to draw the line at Ben joining the raid, which is when Christie leaned close to Sam, lowered her voice.

  “He twisted a Can Head’s… head off. With just his bare hands. Think you should take him.”

  Sam grinned at that.

  “Okay. Everyone buddy up in cars.”

  Then quickly before there could be any more debate, “And Kate, Ben… you come with me. Rob, bring up the rear, all right?”

  Nods all around, and then people shuffled to the door of the farmhouse.

  And among them, Kate.

  Christie thinking that she shouldn’t look back. But then—just at the door—she did turn back and smiled at her mother.

  And Christie smiled back even though the only thing she really felt—could really feel right now—was fear.

  CHAPTER 34

  The Raid

  The cars were moving so slowly Kate thought.

  Over winding, narrow roads, that gradually streamed past empty, still-frozen fields, and then on up, to hills.

  “You okay?” the man said. Sam.

  The leader—and her mother had told her—a scientist.

  Though now, with his full beard and denim shirt, he looked more like a farmer, or some kind of mountain man.

  Kate wasn’t sure she liked him.

  “I’m fine.”

  He nodded, smiled at that. Then to the man in the back seat.

  “Ben, you all right?

  “Just fine.”

  Then a question from Ben—almost funny.

  So classic.

  “We almost there yet?”

  And Sam pointed to the hill.

  “They are on the other side of that hill. Big house, property sits away from the woods. Least that’s what one of my guys said. They’re probably still there.”

  The line of cars moved on.

  And with every bit of distance closer to that hill, now looking like a sleeping giant animal in the distance, Kate felt more tension.

  She had volunteered to do this.

  She didn’t have to.

  But she knew what was the right thing to do.

  Even though—right now—it didn’t feel that way at all.

  Then, at the base of the hills ahead, Sam stopped.

  And all the other cars pulled to a slow stop behind him.